


Decision Points

by B_Radley



Series: Gandalf's Way [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Duty, Episode: s01e15 Fire Across the Galaxy, Families of Choice, Love, Missing Scene, Multi, Rescue Missions, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 23:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley
Summary: Fulcrum must make a decision. One that will change her life forever.





	Decision Points

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Remembrance of Storms Past](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6799273) by [B_Radley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley). 
  * Inspired by [Shadows of Hypori](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10385082) by [B_Radley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley). 



> Takes place before and immediately after Fire Across the Galaxy. Also takes place immediately after a flashback chapter of my story _Ghosts and Dragons: Shadows of Hypori._

**The Fifth Month of the Year 7973 CRC  
Year 15 AFE (After Formation of the Empire)**

**Dragolith**

Ahsoka Tano clicks off her comm, allowing her eyebrow markings to lower from her headdress. She thinks of what the battered astromech had told her; she doesn’t have much time—not only to make a decision, but to put the decision into motion.

She concentrates on raising the old A-Wing—its true purpose disguised in Mining Guild colors. Within moments, she is in hyperspace.

Her mind plays over possibilities. A valuable cell—one that had proven itself over and over, was in danger of being destroyed. Destroyed after disobeying her orders not to retrieve one of their own, captured after sacrificing himself to save his fellow cell members. She closes her eyes. Not only to save his fellows, but to make sure that a message gets out—a message of hope, broadcast across the Outer Rim.

Her eyes remain closed as she reaches out with her mind—not just her mind, but with a mystical companion, her birthright as a former Jedi. Ahsoka reaches out to hopefully find another. That same cell member now languishing in Imperial custody.

The master to a half-raw, untrained padawan now. She can find nothing of the bright, inquisitive mind that was once a hallmark of a young padawan named Caleb Dume.

She, who is now known as Fulcrum, weighs the calculus. One person of one cell of those growing in number.

One person versus the possibility of risking dozens, maybe hundreds. Not just any cell member, but one of the few who were trained as she was, who possess the same skills.

The same as the man that she had just left, a Corellian who had grown up with her, who had helped shape her, before her Master, Anakin Skywalker had taken her. She smiles warmly. _I think I helped shape him, as well,_ she thinks.

Ahsoka raises a hand to her head, massaging away the pain of a flaring headache. The thoughts of Jame Blackthorn, once a Jedi Knight known as Taliesin Croft, don’t engender the pain, but the thoughts of their enforced separation does. The pain at seeing him, the pain at not detecting his spotty Force sense, increases the pounding in her head that the problem of the Spectres had brought on. She remembers refusing his help with the problem, just as they had kissed goodbye. With no more than an hour to exchange the information that she had, there’d been no time for anything more than a kiss and a quick caress.

She wonders if she can take him up on his offer, for he and his Dragons to follow her to a place that Jedi had once gone to die. All on an idea—an idea that is anathema to the risk-averse, growing Rebellion, but was paramount in the war and the cauldron that had shaped both of them.

_No one gets left behind._

She looks up, just as the A-Wing reverts to normal space. She smiles at the CR-90 sitting in the viewport. Her comm dings as she approaches the ship. She sees the VCX-100 attached to the airlock of the green-striped ship.

Five minutes later, she steps through the airlock. The ship’s captain stands in the passageway, her dark eyes staring at her under the high crest of dark green hair.

“I see you picked up the _Ghost_ ,” she says.

“What’d you expect, dear?” the woman responds, a hint of snark in her voice. “I get some half-assed transmission in the middle of the ship’s night, relayed from a crazy astromech about heading right into the middle of a Tano-level shitstorm?”

Ahsoka gives her a Smirk. “What the hell else would you be doing in the night, Tamsin? Reading romance holonovels?”

Tamsin turns around. “As it was, Fulcrum, I was entertaining some of your castoffs.” Two figures step out from behind the Captain. Ahsoka’s heart seizes as her eyes fall on the pair of young women, one close to her own age, the other about five years younger. She tries to speak but can’t as they both smile at her with varying degrees of snark.

Ahsoka is just able to catch one blur with bronze curls flying into her arms. Meglann Florlin squeezes her tightly. Ahsoka can feel dampness on her bare shoulder.

The other, taller figure follows more sedately, her own eyes fighting back the same emotions. Nola Vorserrie encircles them both in her arms. They both take turns kissing her, then break free.

“What are you two doing here?” she manages to ask.

“We were on a courier run. Thought we’d stop by and see what kind of a mood that you’re in,” Nola answers. She reaches up and touches Ahsoka’s face with her left hand. Ahsoka leans into the touch of the long-fingered hand, with the small finger permanently bent away from the others—the result of a long-ago adventure.

Meglann gazes at her curiously, then takes her hand in hers. “Plus a little gray-haired bird, one that you just left, said you might could use our help, even though you told him that you had it handled.”

Ahsoka’s eyes tear at the mention of Blackthorn. Both women’s expressions grow soft. “I know, sweetie,” Meglann says, “we miss you, too. It’s only your stubbornness that keeps you away from us.”

Ahsoka shakes her head, then looks down. “I know. But I’m a little hot right now with the Imperial hunter-killer teams. The other Fulcrums are, too. I can’t risk any of you.” She looks at Tamsin. “I’m usually on the _Jamestyn’s Hope_ just long enough to lay my head down for a few hours.”

Tamsin’s expression, born of her Mandalorian upbringing, rather than her Alderaani birth, shows her opinion of that arrangement.

“I’m sorry, loves,” Ahsoka says. “I have to move fast. A cell has gotten themselves in deep at Mustafar. I need to see what I can scare up to help cover their escape.” She looks away. “If they can escape.”

“What are we up against?” Nola asks. Ahsoka busies herself straightening Nola’s jacket lapels. Her hand plays over the rank plaque with its staff Major’s insignia.

“Spill,” Meglann says sharply.

“Three or four ImpStars in a very restricted sector.”

Tamsin curses. Nola and Meglann stare at her. “We’re going to need more ships,” Ahsoka says, “I’m not planning to stick around long enough to engage the destroyers.”

“So, you got a plan?” Nola asks.

“About one quarter of one. I need to go talk to someone. In the meantime, ‘glann, you think you can drive that VCX?”

“Drove it up here to this twit’s barge,” she replies, pointing at Tamsin, who points with a different finger. “She’s a sweet ship.”

Ahsoka smiles at her knowledge of the pilot. “Just don’t dent her. Her pilot’s a bit particular—so is her crew.”

“Well, it’s me driving, not Nola,” Meglann says without pause.

Nola rolls her eyes. “I call shotgun,” she snarks, “What about you, Fulcrum?” 

“Me? I’m just getting everything together. I’ll sit my ass in the top turret and watch everything.”

“I’ll scare up some of Tamsin’s layabouts, if she can spare them to help us fly and shoot,” Meglann says.

“So I guess you’re expecting me to come along for this party,” Tamsin says. Ahsoka says nothing. Tamsin grins. “Okay. But it’ll cost you, Fulcrum,” she says.

Ahsoka takes a deep breath. “Now for the hard part. I’ll be in my cabin. Please don’t come in. It might not be seemly to see me begging.”

* * *

Bail Organa watches and listens as Ahsoka outlines the problem. His gaze is steady and calm as she finishes. He takes a deep breath, mirroring Ahsoka’s move. He stares at her through the holocomm.

Ahsoka thinks of how many times she’s stood in front of him in the past, when the movement was even more embryonic that it is now. She falls silent as she finishes. His dark eyes are fixed on her.

She feels more like an initiate, standing in front of the Council for some misdeed. She realizes that she is holding her breath.

“You realize that just a few days ago you told Hera Syndulla that we couldn’t afford to lose her cell for one person,” he says quietly. His eyes, as they always have been, are kind and understanding. Even when having to deliver bad news or a rebuke.

She releases her breath. “I know, Senator,” she replies. “But I—“ She falls silent, gathering herself, “I think that I might’ve been wrong,” she says.

He raises his eyebrow, a gentle smirk painting on his features. “Ahsoka Tano, admitting that she’s wrong? The galaxy may be ending.”

She laughs rolling her eyes. “I know. Tempest said the same thing. Guess I always need someone to reinforce my natural humility.”

Their laughter rises together at that. His look softens. “How is he? The rest of them?”

She takes a deep breath, feels it catch. She closes her eyes. “He’s fine,” she says. “They’re making it.” She reopens her eyes. “They’re doing what they’re supposed to.” She moves her eyes up his, closing them off to him. “As am I.”

After a moment, he nods. “So about Jarrus.”

“I think that we need to help them at least escape. If I know Hera, they’ve got some crazy-ass plan. One that needs cover.” She fidgets under his gaze, grasping the bottom of her armor plates. She drops them when she realizes what she’s doing. _Speaking of being a youngling again,_ she thinks. “According to Spectre Two’s reports, Ezra Bridger shows great promise. I think that he needs his master,” she finishes. She grins. “I think Jarrus is what he needs. An unconventional teacher.”

He cocks his head. “Couldn’t you do that? Or Blackthorn—Covenant?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “I’m not a Jedi. I won’t ever be one,” she says. “Jame’s Force sense is too fractured and damaged.” She smiles softly. “He’s a good teacher,” she whispers.

“Meglann would say the same about you, Ahsoka,” Bail says.

She nods. “She’s not a Force sensitive.”

“I think that the principle’s the same,” he replies, “I think you can be a guide to them, even if you aren’t a Jedi.”

She raises her eyebrow markings. “So you think I should break protocol? When we get them out,” she adds hastily.

“One thing at a time, Fulcrum,” he says. “I’m awaiting your signal for a synchronized jump. The _Sundered Heart_ is yours.”

Ahsoka feels something like hope in her chest. “I’ve got one ship, plus the _Ghost_. Anything else free?”

“I’ll contact Jun Sato of Phoenix group. He’s about to raid an Imperial convoy for much needed supplies, but he might be able to spare one.”

After a moment, Ahsoka nods. “I’ll signal you. When the astromech jumps in, we can start the jump back.” Her gaze sharpens. “Hit and run.”

“May the Force be with you, Ahsoka,” he says.

“And with you, Bail,” she says.

The door to her cabin opens. Three powerful women stand there. “Awaiting your orders, Fulcrum,” Tamsin says.

“No. You’re the senior captain. You’ll lead the attack. I’m just an informant. I’ll shoot for you. She looks at Meglann. “Meg, you’ll coordinate the jumps.” She smiles. “Nola’s pretty good with a navicomputer, at least.” Meglann and Tamsin nod and turn away.

Nola stays behind and walks up to her, pulling her into her arms, squeezing her tightly. “You know, the Clone Wars were a long time ago. I think you’ll be okay leading troops into battle.”

Ahsoka rests her forehead against Nola’s. “No. I swore I’d never lead anyone into battle. That’s not my place, even now.”

“Jame’s leading them,” Nola observes.

Ahsoka says nothing. Her mind focuses on the memory of his face.

“Okay,” Nola says. “Just so you know, I’d follow you anywhere, sis,” she says.

Ahsoka is silent as Nola leaves the room.

 _Maybe it’s time to come back into the world_ , Ahsoka thinks. She wonders if she can, if she can allow herself to remain detached enough to keep them alive.

If she can refrain from loving. She feels the sensation of green, purple, and gold light—a light that’s rare, but always welcome—in her mind. It means that Jame Blackthorn’s Force sense is working.

 _The two aren’t necessarily exclusive, Runt_ , his warm voice—a voice she has known for nearly three decades, starting in Clawmouse Clan at the Jedi Temple—says. An adversarial relationship in the beginning, as both of them had been too proud to admit that they could learn from each other, but one that had grown to whatever it was now.

_You’re the one who told me that what we do is all about love. Not just the love that we feel for each other, after all of these years._

She finishes his thought for him. _For the galaxy as a whole_ , remembering her own words when he had doubted that they could continue, after a loss that had staggered them.

* * *

Meglann divides her attention between the controls of the _Ghost_ and the blue tunnel of hyperspace. She smiles as she thinks of the power and the grace that she could feel under her hands. The smile grows into a grin as she thinks of the binary from the grumpy astromech, known as Chopper, when he had jumped in with the stolen _Gozanti_ -class freighter. _Don’t get comfortable, meatbag_ , he had chirped. _The real meatbag Captain will be coming back for her._

She splits her attention yet again and looks at her companion. Nola Vorserrie sits in the co-pilot’s seat. Her eyes stare out of the viewport. Meglann nods, her look softening. The tall staff weenie, is, like Meglann, a member of some mythological Corellian bond with the Covenant of Corellia, Jame Blackthorn, as well as two others, now.

Nola had also been worrying about Fulcrum longer than any of them, with the possible exception of Jame Blackthorn. She had once been Ahsoka’s handler, the go-between for Bail and his Fulcrum. Meglann had been a waitress and diner-owner at that time, but she had heard of the toll that the risks that Ahsoka had taken on the ex-Naboo Handmaiden.

It had strained their relationship in those early days. She shakes her head. _Time to shake her out of it._

“Hey, Stretch,” she says, allowing the snark into her voice, “you going to fit in the nose turret?”

Nola turns and stares at her from her own near two meters in height, a slow smile moving over her sharp features and in her dark eyes. “I don’t know. It might be the safest place on this boat with your flying, twit,” she replies.

“You got a lot of gall talking about my flying, woman,” Meglann says. “Somewhere in a rebel ship depot, there’s a _Nebulon-B_ frigate with a permanent dent under the bridge from a platform on Fondor.”

Nola’s expression turns even more snarky, if that’s possible. “Yeah, well someone had to save your scrawny ass when your weird-ass family was going to string you, Fulcrum, and Covenant up.”

“You’ve never complained about my ass before, No-no,” Meglann retorts.

Nola reaches over and kisses her quickly. “True enough,” she says.

“I’m going to keep looking for that Nebbie. When it’s assigned and commissioned, I’m going to make sure that it’s called the _Last Word_ ,” Meglann says, using a descriptive nickname for Nola coined by Jame Blackthorn nearly two decades ago.

She feels her heart sink at the thought of their Commodore and Covenant. _Their protector_ , now exiled from Corellia. As well as exiled from their Fulcrum and fellow Link.

Nola smiles and brings her into a deep hug. “It’s okay, love. I know. I wish they, and us, could all be together. I know it’s hard for you. I know you feel that Ahsoka made you, as a pilot and a fighter.”

“Yeah,” Meglann replies. “I owe her a lot.” She rests her face in Nola’s hair. “I owe all of you. You all taught me something.”

“You have to know that both she and Covenant are so proud of you. So are Dani, Lassa, and I.” Nola grins. “Even though all that I taught you was how to be a smartass.”

“Oh, no. All of us have natural talent for that,” Meglann snarks. She moves her forehead to Nola’s shoulder. “No, you showed me the example of someone who cares deeply for her loved ones. So much so that the worry consumes you.”

Nola is quiet for a moment. Meglann thinks she has overstepped.

“It took me a lot of years to learn that I don’t have to be afraid of loving someone, just because I might lose them,” Meglann hears in her ear. A near-whisper.

Both of them look up as a small alarm goes off. They break apart after another kiss.

“Coming up on Mustafar,” Meglann says through the intercom to the four anonymous crewmembers and Ahsoka, alone with her thoughts in the top turret.

“Be careful, ladies,” Ahsoka replies.

Nola stands up, then moves to the exit. She grins. “Maybe if we have time after this is over, we can break in the captain’s bunk. She might just owe us.”

“I’m sure she could think of other ways for us to collect than having to change the sheets,” Meglann says dryly.

As she is left alone in the cockpit, Meglann Florlin thinks about how lucky she is.

She reaches for the hyperspace lever, making sure that the shields are up.

_Lucky, indeed._

* * *

Bail stands behind Captain Colton as the pilot shifts the _Sundered Heart_ from hyperspace. Both men take a deep breath, then release it. Colton pulls his helmet on, then give Bail a hard look, jerking his eyes over to the chair set up next to his own. Bail returns his hard look, refusing to sit in the chair until Colton uses his.

The stars shorten, then are quickly replaced by red and green energy bolts. He catches a glimpse of the _Gozanti_ just ahead of them as the four ships—three corvettes and the _Ghost_ split and open fire on the hundreds of TIE fighters attacking.

Bail manages to keep his feet as the _Heart_ jinks; he hears the insistent hammering of the turbolaser twin mounts from above and slightly behind the cockpit module. As he steadies himself, he can just make out what the Imperial ships are shooting at, amidst the explosions of TIE fighter. Two TIEs, each unique in its own way, arc towards the _Gozanti_ of the antisocial astromech. Bail shakes his head with a grin as he sees the colorful paint job of one regular TIE, knowing that the Mando explosives artist, Sabine Wren probably had something to do with that paint scheme.

His eyes narrow as he focuses on the other TIE—some sort of special variant with curved wings. Intelligence reports from the Spectres had shown that these ships had carried the darkside Force users known as Inquisitors.

Both fighters dock with the freighter, as Bail’s ship, the Corellian corvette, and the unknown ship from Phoenix group, splash more Imperial fighters and they swing in a wide arc, heading back to the hyperspace lane. An instant before his ship jumps, he glances at the Ghost. He sees a pair of blue and white striped lekku in the top turret, continuing to hammer away as the ship’s image lengthens in his brain and leaps away.

Oddly, as it does, Bail wonders if his holocomm with Ahsoka might be their last ever communication. He tries to shake the thought away as his ship jumps in echelon.

* * *

Ahsoka rests in the turret in hyperspace. She looks over and sees the _Gozanti_ that the _Ghost_ is docked with. She lifts the charging handles up to make the guns safe. She hears voices from below, coming from the area of the docking ring. The first voice that she hears is Bail’s, with the otherworldly quality of a comm.

The next is an unfamilar male’s with a deep, steady voice. The familiar low soprano of Hera Syndulla answers.

Ahsoka takes a deep breath, knowing that her moment is coming up. The moment when she engages with the Ghosts. She closes her eyes, hearing other voices. She opens them, allowing a mask to fall over her features—a mask of her emotions, that will allow her to keep a certain distance from them.

She can’t allow herself to get close. She doesn’t want to get close to another family, as she had with Blackthorn and the others.

She stands, hoping that she can keep that distance. For her sake, if no one else’s

* * *

On a distant ship, the owner of the green, purple, and gold light in Ahsoka’s Force sense, sits at a desk in his cabin, sipping caf. He reads a quick summary of a fleeting skirmish—a skirmish that had resulted in the destruction of a Star Destroyer over a lava-filled world.

Jame Blackthorn, once the padawan-master of Clawmouse Clan, closes his eyes and opens his mind. He seeks that blue-orange light that is Ahsoka’s avatar in his mind.

His spotty Force sense fails him. Again.

He fights the grief—grief at her enforced separation. He understands why she had done it, but he disagreed with it. It was as if she’d forgotten the oath they had taken to one another on her world, the oath of hunt-brother and hunt-sister.

A vow that they would fight with each other, rather than for each other.

Something they had struggled with throughout their lives.

The door opens, just as a warmth suffuses his body—a familiar warmth.

Daaineran Faygan, his flag-captain in this band of reprobates, walks in. She doesn’t even need her empathic resonance, a gift of her mother’s people, to sense his pain.

She walks around the desk and pulls him into her arms, her fingers playing through his short, gray hair.

“It’s okay, love. I’ve heard from the terrible two. She’s okay. They got the cell member away from Mustafar. They didn’t lose anyone.”

He stays silent, content to be held. For a moment.

Jame breaks away, then gives Dani a brief kiss. “Secure the squadron from General Quarters. I guess we won’t need to swoop in and mess up her carefully laid plans,” he says.

She grins, then nods. The expression fades. “You know she would’ve been pissed off, if we’d jumped in,” she says.

“Yeah. But at least she’d’ve been alive to be pissed at me.” He holds up his hands. “I know. I have to respect her wishes. It’s what I’ve always tried to do.”

He feels Dani’s warm hand on his cheek. “I think she knows that you will. She also knows that she would probably do the same thing for you, my brother-of-the-heart. I think y’all tried too hard to try to differentiate between ‘with’ and ‘for’. It’s really all the same thing. It’s what loved ones do for each other.” Her eyes grow mischievous. “Sometimes to each other.”

“How’d you get so wise, Daanieran?” he asks.

“Comes from being two months older than you. I get to be wiser.”

“Right. You’re a regular senior citizen,” he says.

She kisses him, then leaves him with his thoughts to carry out his orders.

He opens his mind once again, hoping against hope.

Jame smiles as that blue-orange light washes over him. He closes his eyes, relishing the moment.

 _Hey, Bait_ , his mind-voice says in that high, clear voice of his dreams. _Guess you heard._

 _I’m okay_ , she finishes.

He sits back, relishing those two simple words.

He doesn’t think about the alternative.


End file.
